Bursts of Light
by Vengesim
Summary: Like shooting stars they pierce the dark, and paint the sky with bursts of light.


The top of the parking garage across from their apartment doesn't give the best view of the fireworks, but it's their view. Just the two of them, no one to ruin the moment or complain if they make out too much, and if either of them get drunk, which is to say if Chloe gets drunk because Max still doesn't drink, they can walk home.

Chloe's not that interested in getting drunk tonight though. Tipsy, oh fuck yes, but drunk, no. She's not really even interested in watching the fireworks. No, she's far too busy watching Max's face, the way her mouth gapes slightly open in childhood wonder as she watches the sky explode, spreading bursts of red, green, and blue across her face. Chloe hasn't seen Max look this relaxed in months, back before she went to the dark room, before they leveled their hometown.

The freckled face suddenly notices the blue-haired girl's stare and turns towards her.

"You're supposed to be watching the fireworks you know?" She says.

"I'm watching something hella lot more beautiful," Chloe says, bringing out the cheesiest line she can think of because their lives are full of crap and if she brings enough cheese maybe the crap will stop.

Max rolls her eyes, but a small smile pulls at the edges of her mouth and Chloe could stand up and scream she's that excited because Max hardly ever smiles anymore and each one is a miracle and she would do anything to keep her smiling.

"What am I going to do with you?" Max asks with an exaggerated sigh.

"Make love to me right now," Chloe says immediately, sinking into her folding chair and spreading her legs apart with her best 'come hither' look.

"If memory serves, I've already done that twice today," Max says, her eyebrow arching in amusement, completely immune to Chloe's attempts at seduction. At least this time. Chloe thinks two out of three isn't too bad.

"Well don't let that stop you," Chloe says and Max actually laughs, a small half snort/half laugh, but Chloe takes it happily because too many of their nights end with tears or the kind of sex that's more desperate than loving.

The sky light's up suddenly, almost as bright as the midday sun, casting long shadows over the two of them, and Max's eyes trace the curve of Chloe's jaw and the way the shadow falls over the side of her neck. "Man, I wish I had my camera," she mutters and Chloe's breath almost catches in her throat because her camera is still in a box in their apartment, forgotten ever since they left whatever was left of the Bay.

"I fucking love July fourth," Chloe says, deciding then and there it's her new favorite holiday because fuck Christmas, who likes seeing all the family you can't stand and missing the ones you could but aren't there anymore.

"July fourth? Since when?" Max asks.

"What's not to like? Staying up late, explosions, booze, a license to act like a complete idiot, and of course I've got you right beside me."

"You've always got me," Max says. It's just a fact, nothing Max thinks means anything special, but the words go straight to Chloe's chest. Always. Chloe likes the sound of that.

"Forever?" Chloe asks. Her hand grips the handle of her lawn chair, knuckles turning white as she waits for an answer.

"Forever Chloe," Max says, her eyes narrowed, her voice chastising. "You know that." But Chloe doesn't. Max has said it before over a dozen times, whispered it into her ear as she lay crying in the night unable to believe her life was worth everything it cost, proved it in ways Chloe doesn't even know or remember. But still she couldn't believe it, because no one could love her as much as Max says she does, because in no universe does Chloe deserve it. She knows that. But still Max loves her. And tonight she believes it for the first time, feels in in her bones. Maybe it's because she's a little tipsy, or maybe it's because Max is in nothing but a tank top and shorts and the fireworks are turning her skin into a living canvas, or maybe it's the leftover hormones from her after diner orgasm, or maybe it's that she spent the whole day with Max not having to worry about their shitty jobs, their lack of money, their guilt, or anything really and she could just be with Max and be in love.

Chloe looks down at the two rings on her right hand and thinks _maybe this is it, maybe this is the moment._ And she knows it's not a good time, that it's too early, that it's only been a couple months and they aren't in a good place, in any aspect of their life.

But this moment is good, this moment they're ready, and maybe that's enough. Maybe, just maybe, she can make this moment stretch on, and they won't have to go back to what they've been until now.

She takes the ring, a gold band with a small diamond, and pulls it off her right index finger, where it's been ever since the funeral.

She always thought she'd go for something more unique, but when the moment comes she gets off her folding chair and one knee goes down to the pavement, driving into a sharp piece of rock. She fights back the twinge of pain and the cuss words on the tip of her tongue, she is not ruining this, as she looks up at Max, ring held out, and it doesn't matter if it's just like every romance movie ever made because it's not what she's doing that matters, it's the fact that it's her and it's Max and that makes it one of a kind.

Max's right hand clenches into a fist and she pulls it into her sternum with the other as her eyes widen.

"Chloe," she says and Chloe can see the fireworks reflected in her watery eyes.

"We'll have to have it resized, your fingers are so skinny," she says but Max is shaking her head.

"Chloe, that's Joyce's, I can't…" She doesn't say why she can't, but Chloe knows. She's apologized so many times, begged for Chloe's forgiveness in the middle of the night when she thought Chloe was asleep, and Chloe has tried to explain each time that it wasn't Max's fault, that her mom is gone because she's still alive when she should be dead, that so many people are dead because she isn't. But this night isn't about that. Max made her choice and even if Chloe can never understand it, tonight she accepts it, accepts that this beautiful, endlessly kind girl would choose her over their hometown, would put herself through that guilt just to be with her. Tonight, Chloe decides, instead of feeling guilty, she'll feel grateful.

"Caulfield, are you going to tell me no?" Chloe asks.

"What?"

"I'm asking you to marry me dork, so will you?"

"Chloe, it's not that, it's just…" Tears stream down her face and Chloe doesn't know if they're happy or sad and deep down Max doesn't know either because there isn't a perfect answer. "I mean, fuck Chloe, yes, yes, of course I'll marry you."

Chloe is back on her feet in a moment, pulling the smaller girl against her and lifting her into the air. Max has always been small and frail, and the last months have not been kind. Some days Max forgets to eat, to sleep, and it only makes her already skinny body even smaller. But today, Chloe pays it no mind as she easily lifts the girl, spinning her around and causing their knees to knock together which hurts more than it should but Chloe doesn't care.

Their lips crash together, their hands in each other's hair, going down their backs and resting on hip bones, and for a moment everything is perfect. For a moment, both girls feel perfectly content with the world. And it feels like destiny, and it feels like fate, and maybe, just maybe, this is the way it's supposed to be, how it had to happen, and they don't have to feel so guilty or sad or terrible, they can just be two girls in love.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

And for a moment, for a night, everything's okay. They're okay. Chloe's okay with being alive. Max is okay with the fact that she choose her. One diamond ring and the promise of forever.

The kiss gets deeper as both girls forget about the fire in the sky. Chloe tastes like stale beer and cigarettes. Max tastes like burnt chicken because Chloe wanted to grill and Max let her even though she's terrible at it because William always grilled on July fourth and Max remembers that too.

She sets the girl down and they're kissing, the slow kisses of two people in love.

"I think you have to put it on or it isn't official," Chloe says as the kiss finally breaks, holding the thin ring out. Still Max hesitates, her eyes nervous as a familiar feeling starts to sink into her chest.

Chloe sees but she doesn't relent, determined to make this one thing, this one ring, a good thing.

"Mom would have been thrilled for you to have it. She loved you you know," she says, her voice tender.

"I loved her too, but I.."

"You already agreed Max. You can't take it back now." And Max nods and holds her left hand out. Chloe takes it and it feels thin and warm in her own, so delicate Chloe's afraid she could break her if she isn't careful. Slowly Chloe brings the ring up to Max's middle finger and slides the gold band on. It's too big even for that finger but Max doesn't mind. She's pulls her hand back and stares at it, watches as the stone reflects the bursts of light in the sky above.

"Its perfect," she says and she means it. Max can't think of a more perfect night and it'll be a long time before any other night comes close.

"Your knee is bleeding," Max says, looking down between them. Chloe looks and sees that both her and Max's knee are covered in blood.

"Oh, I thought it hurt earlier," Chloe says, not really caring, because Max is wearing her ring, would always wear her ring, would always be hers and who cares about bloody knees after that?

Max crouches down and uses her shirt to wipe away some of the blood. She holds Chloe's knee delicately, her touch so soft it sends shivers up Chloe's spine.

"I think you got some gravel in it, you should probably have a doctor look at it," Max says.

Chloe doesn't have a doctor look at it. She gets a pretty nasty scar. She doesn't care, it's the perfect excuse to tell anyone who asks the story of a July fourth night when she asked the most perfect girl ever made to marry her and, even though she got her covered in blood, she said yes.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Firstly, I have no idea. I should have been working on the next chapter of "All the Scars You Cannot See" and I got through most of that when suddenly I had this idea and wanted to punch it out before the busy July 4th weekend. I'm sorry about that and I promise I'll get right back to scars next week.**

 **Secondly, shout out to venividivigor's wonderful prose "the august bedroom of tangled sheets"** **which was the major inspiration for this story. If you haven't read it, seriously do so now. It's a lot better than this story.**

 **Thirdly, everyone have a wonderful and safe July 4th. Even my non-American readers, you don't need a holiday to enjoy the 4th (though it helps.) Till next time friends.**


End file.
